" CHAPTER IX. ” “An appetite like yours,” he said resignedly, “is fatal to all sentiment. For aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment. I'm going through his pockets. ” He shook her diminutive hand. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this.
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